Washing Day
by TheCorviter
Summary: Sarah finds out why clean goblins are a bad thing. Set after the events of One Drink. Rated T for language.


Jareth _had_ been napping. The operative word here being 'had'. And he _had_ been having the most wonderful dream of him and Sarah in his tub with a few scant inches of bubbles in between them. Just as he was about to close the distance and take her into his arms, the chanting of "Washy-washy! Washy-washy," woke him.

Muttering a slew of inventive curses, he crawled out of their bed and poked his head out the window. The chanting had grown louder and more insistent- filtering up from the streets of the Goblin City far below.

Jareth braced himself against the windowsill and leaned out as far as he was able trying to ascertain exactly what was causing such a ruckus. There! He spotted it on the northern edge of the city- where it butted up against a small field that eventually bled into forest.

"Dammit!" he growled as he hoisted himself up and out the window, changing into his owl form mid-fall. With an angry screech, he took off towards the offending noise.

Sarah's body moved in time to his and she squirmed, trying to get more comfortable. This only earned her a disapproving growl and his arm tightening across her thighs in a bruising grip. She sighed, resigned to her fate. Well, at least this time her hair was pinned up and out of her face.

Craning her neck back she surveyed the area around them. Nothing new- same greens, browns, and blues as before. Hold on, shiny black eyes peered at them from a patch of green. After a few minutes, a vermilion colored head and body shot forward. He joined them on strong legs and a sinewy body.

"Hey Sparts," Sarah called cheerfully at the creature. 'Sparts' was short for Spartacus, and the only way Sarah could describe him in Aboveground terms, was that he was a painfully bright red furred ferret but with a thick tail and webbed hind legs (four of them mind you) like that of an otter. He even had skin pockets underneath his upper arms like that of an otter. That's where he kept his stolen goods from the night before.

Easily keeping pace with the duo, he eyed Sarah with his glittering black eyes, and twisted his head to the left to such a degree that she thought of an owl. After a minute, he spoke, "Mademoiselle Sarah, whatever did you do this time?" His light, reedy voice with slight French accent always surprised her. The name Spartacus was of Roman origin. However, did a French ferret-otter creature come up with that as a name? She vowed to ask him later- when she wasn't in such a compromising position.

"Oh, you know, just something that- benefits the whole kingdom!" She aimed the last part of her statement over her shoulder to chasten Jareth. It didn't have the effect she had hoped- for he grunted in response, shifted her weight, and continued on.

"I see." Sparts' nose twitched bemusedly. "But if it benefits the whole kingdom then why…?" He trailed off uncertain how to finish his question.

"Am I being carried like a sack of potatoes? Because it pleases His Majesty to do so." She snorted. "At least I'm prepared this time." Pulling a tiny pouch from underneath her blouse, Sarah rummaged through it. After the second time of being lugged around like this, she started carrying the essentials with her- by way of magical pouch. Creating the object was the hardest part, but a good thing to practice her burgeoning magic on. It was about the size of a coin purse, but had a greater capacity then what met the eye. Fitting in nicely she thought with the overall theme of the Underground: "nothing is what it seems"' and "looks could be deceiving."

Digging through it, she eventually found what she was looking for. A miniature bag of Cheese-its. Tying her pouch shut and stuffing it back under her shirt, she tore open the bag and offered one to Spartacus.

"Merci," he said as he accepted the cracker, nibbling on it with pointed teeth.

"So, how many did you get last night?" Sarah asked munching on her own crackers. She forgot how salty the were and decided that she needed to add a few bottled waters to her pouch for next time.

"52 left ones." He stated proudly.

Spartacus and his kin were sock thieves.

Sarah quickly learned every creature in the Underground had certain jobs to perform in the world Above. Their roles changed over the centuries of course, as humans started to move away from magic and whimsy- towards science and logic. Instead of interacting directly with humans, many creatures and critters were there to instill belief, imagination, and dreams. All of which kept the Underground alive.

Take goblins for example: Ever have a day where nothing goes right? Flat tire, spilled hot coffee, copier machine on the fritz? All the work of goblins. They were the mischief makers and chaos creators. Of course, most humans couldn't see them, but it got them thinking and wondering. Oh, and children with imaginary friends? Yeah, those friends were most likely goblins as well.

Other, bigger things humans could see. Things like Abominable Snowmen, Loch Ness Monsters, and Bigfoots (Bigfeets?) so they had to be careful. A glimpse here, an out of focus photo or video there kept people talking. Kept people imagining and believing.

And despite their fierce appearances Abominable Snow-people were just lovely and Sarah always enjoyed having them over for tea.

"Why only the left ones, Sparts?" she asked handing him another cracker.

"I find they are the softest." He wiped the crumbs off his paw on his deep maroon chest.

"Oh, and-"

Sarah was cut off by Jareth's sudden halting gate. Turning towards weasel like critter, Jareth's face read cool politeness, only his eyes betraying him. They were sparkling with fire and irritation. "Monsieur Spartacus." He respectfully bowed towards him- as much as he could with Sarah hanging over his left shoulder. "I know it has only been a few weeks since you and your family relocated here. But need I remind you not to converse so jovially with a prisoner of the King?"

Equal in his respectfulness, Spartacus bowed back. "Ah, yes. Forgive me your Highness." Raising his head, he winked, cheekily at Sarah who was leaning to the side and twisting to watch. "But if it's anything I've heard about. Anything that I have seen- Monsieur Goblin King, then what the Lady has done here is short of miraculous!"

"I shall be the judge of that," Jareth said cooly. Setting Sarah on her feet.

"You'd better go Sparts. I'll catch up with you later." Sarah waved at him as he scuttled off.

"And you," Jareth put his hands on her shoulders, turning her towards him. "What were you thinking?"

"All I did was read to them." She smoothed his shirt. "Why are you all wrinkly? And your hair-"

"Yes, but _that_ story? Did you consider the repercussions?" In his haste to find her, Jareth had neglected to straighten his appearance after his nap. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, restoring it into organized chaos. "Goblins are dimmer than small children, Sarah. At least most children know not to copy actions out of books."

"Hmm. Well, there is that," she agreed. "I just don't see what's so bad."

Jareth started walking again, taking Sarah's hand and dragging her along. "Sarah, they won't 'Goblin' like this. I'll have a hell of a time collecting any Wished Aways."

She hadn't thought about that. Coming to the edge of the forest they stopped and took in the scene before them. The goblins had organized an assembly line of sorts. An old claw footed tub had been set up with a small fire burning beneath it, heating the water inside. A few of Ludo's brothers stood near the tub with a sizeable mound of stolen bars of soap piled next to each one.

Next to the tub a few slabs of wood were on the ground forming a platform of sorts. A Snorkblat (a large green elephant type creature) waited patiently next to it.

The final section was a stretch of grass- bathed in bright warm sunlight.

They watched as the line started to move again, goblins excitedly chanting "Washy-washy! Washy-washy." Four goblins, pushing and jittering climbed into the tub- splashing merrily while the Rock Callers grabbed a goblin in one hand, soap in the other, and roughly scrubbed them clean. Water turning brown and grey with the sloughed off dirt.

Magically, the water absorbed the dirt and grime turning clear again. This time, taking a goblin in each hand, the Rock Callers dunked and swished them around rinsing them.

Hopping out, they gathered on the makeshift platform where the Snorkblat blew air from its trunk rendering the goblins mostly dry. They scurried off to the warm stretch of grass to lay out and finish drying off- many of them dozing off after a bit.

"See what you have done?" Jareth demanded. "They're all clean."

Sarah giggled. There was a marked difference between the grimy goblins and the clean ones. Their true skin color wasn't a grayish brown, but a bright green like spring leaves. Who would have thought. "Being clean isn't all that bad."

"Not all that bad," he sputtered. "Look at this." He grabbed a clean goblin by the scruff of its neck and brought him eye level. "You. How many coffees have you spilled today?"

The tiny thing trembled at being directly addressed by his King but did not answer.

He pointed up with his free hand. "Above. How many coffees did you spill Above?"

"No-none Ye Kingy." He answered, eyes wide with fear.

Jareth sneered at him. "And why is that?" He spat.

"Messy. Me's likes bein' clean," he squeaked.

Jareth dropped him. "See, not 'Goblining.'" He rounded on her. "Do you know how many Boggings this will take?"

Sarah now understood her mistake. Earlier in the week, she had read a small group of goblins _Mrs. Wishy-Washy_ , a favorite childhood book of hers. Not thinking that they would try to clean themselves like Mrs. Wishy-Washy did her farm animals.

"Shit," she said as Jareth moved closer. A malicious smile on his face.

"Gah!" Sarah sat up breathing heavily- panicked for a moment until the dream faded and she remembered she was in her own bed, in her Aboveground apartment. "Oh, just a dream." She settled back against her pillows relieved.

"What was just a dream, Precious?" Jareth asked, his voice coming from the surrounding darkness.

Sarah yelped in surprise "Don't do that!" She reached over and turned on her bedside lamp. "I thought you went home ages ago?"

Jareth blinked at the offending light and went back to marking a scroll that was in his lap. A tiny pair of spectacles perched on his nose. "I did. But I think better when you're around. Even if you're asleep." He patted her knee. "Now about this dream?"

"How do you do that in the dark?" She gestured at his paperwork.

Jareth cocked an eyebrow at her. "Form of owl, remember."

"Oh yeah… anyhow the goblins were… clean." They both shuddered in disgust at the thought. "And I caused it."

"I didn't take it very well, did I?" He slashed thorough a word with his quill.

"No." Sarah swept her sleeping braid over her shoulder and started playing with the tip of it. "You wouldn't publicly carry me around like a sack of potatoes, would you?"

His ears perked up at 'publicly.' He didn't know Sarah was an exhibitionist. Bedroom games were one thing, but if she was dreaming about things like this then... He pursed his lips in thought. There were so many ways he could answer her. Deciding that, "Not unless you want me to," was the best option he waited.

She swatted his arm playfully. Not necessarily a negative reaction. He decided to push her a bit farther. "However I'd have to get the frame out of storage and put it out in the square."

"Frame? What frame?" She looked at him confused.

"Bondage frame," he purred and watched as it clicked.

"Bondage- eww. Oh, I didn't mean like that. You were angry and decided to lug me around." She swatted his arm again this time with more force.

Drat. This would go into the Absolutely Not List along with zero-gravity sex in the Escher Room. She was no fun sometimes.

Seeing as it was 2am, Sarah shut off the lamp and settled back down- determined to get some sleep before she had to get up for work. "Night." She closed her eyes for a moment before a thought flitted through her mind. Rolling over she asked, "If Spartacus and the rest of the Greeans steal socks, then why did they shred our clothes that one night?"

She didn't see him look sharply at her. "How did you know they steal socks?"

She shrugged. "Dream. I'm sure you mentioned it at some point." She said as she wriggled around trying to get comfortable.

He had not. And that she was dreaming accurately about the Labyrinth was a wonderful development. It meant that she was feeling more at home there and starting to truly love the Underground. Love him even. Smiling he answered her question. "Traveling Madness. It happens to some when they suddenly uproot and settle into a foreign place quickly. The Labyrinth is about as far from France as they could get."

"Oh." She yawned happy with the answer. "Could we invite the Abominables over for tea sometime?" Sarah asked already half asleep. "I do enjoy their company."

* * *

Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah are not mine. They belong to Jim Henson and Co. I borrowed the word Snorkblat from Disney's Little Mermaid. I didn't even realize it until I googled the word to check the spelling. The magical pouch was an idea borrowed from Harry Potter.

AN: Not betaed- all errors are mine. I am looking for one for all these little fics that pop into my head.


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